The Adventure For Dovakiin
by T. Savage
Summary: A young Nord seeks the truth about the Dovakiin.


He sat amongst a circle of old Nord's, strong, Nobel men who burrowed themselves in their knowledgeable age, reveling in their past adventures and spoils. He wasn't a Nobel, adventurous soul as the men he was lucky enough to be invited to sit and get drunk alongside with. He was just a boy, a whelp of 24 ages old, still growing hairs the Nord's he envied had lost and regrown with time. He once met the greatest Nordic hero of all time, considered the better of lord Talos, the Dovakiin who had defeated the greatest threats to Tamriel from the Nordic heartland of Skyrim. The last Dragonborn, the slayer of Assassins, Daedra, Miraak, and Alduin the world eater. He met the last Dragonborn in the mead halls of Yorovaskr, when the Dova was Harbinger of the Companions. When the young well was only 18 ages, when his parents were slaughtered by Vampires. The great and wise Dovakiin accepted the boy, and trained him. Now, the boy listened to the strongest members of the Companions, as they talked about the fate of the still existing, yet "missing" Dragonborn.

"Ahh, yes. I do not know where our great Harbinger has been, the last accounted sighting of him was outside Whiterun, at one of the farms, when the owner reported seeing the Dragonborn stopping at his water well, for a drink and a short break. The farmer still has the Dovakiin's blood stained on his brick well."

One Nord broke in, "Ahh, yes, he-he-he! That, as many believe, was the day the Dragonborn foght his greatest mortal challenger, a man no one knew, but a man identified as The Ebony Warrior, as he had the most well defined set of Ebony armor and weaponry anyone today has seen. He challenged the Dragonborn, knowing he could count on the last Dova to send him to Sovernguard, a place we will all see here one day. The Dragonborn won, and was reported to have buried the Ebony Warrior, armor and all, in a lone dragon burial mound. The Dragonborn, as many assumed due to the picked burial ground, saw the Ebony Warrior as the Fiercest man he knew beside himself. An honeralbe grave, one I would love to see, if I wasn't soo damned lazy..." And with that, the old Nord's grew quiet, and took a swig of his Ale, daydreaming of his days of glory.

Finally, the well spoke up, "No one has seen him? No one?" The kid knew the story like the back of his hand, he just wanted to be heard. "How long has it been? 5 years?"

He got a hearty reply, "Ha! Damned whelp! You know this story, so why ya asking? Everyone in this hall knows the Dragonborn, our past Harbinger, favored you of our bunch. We remember, so why bring it up?"

The whelp expected the response, "Because I'm going to find the Dragonborn, our Harbinger, and my friend, all of our friends "

The room grew quiet, and the oldest Nord's gripped their blade hilts tightly out of habit from the news of an adventure. The biggest, oldest of the men, named Vilkas, threw out, "What makes you think he wants to be found? Eh? He's missing, because he wants to be alone. Skyrim and Tamriel is at peace, so why shouldn't he be? He doesn't want to be found. Leave him be youngin."

The whelp wasn't done, "It's not for him, but for us. We deserve to know his story, his life. The world needs to know his story, he cannot die alone."

Another man laughed, and grumbled, " He doesn't owe this world anything. We owe him the land, as a king, but he won't take it. We don't deserve a thing from him."

"No, but I'm not going to give up. I want to know, and so does the world."

The crowd was completely silent, the Companions, old and new, all considered the adventure of seeing the greatest man they knew again. They all wanted it, but they hesitated to break his freedom of rest. The boy said, reassuring himself more than anyone else, "I'm going to find him." The room started to stir, all the Companions got up, most disappeared for their beds, Farkas and Villas, two fierce brothers and the oldest Companions members left, approached the whelp.

"This is your Journey, no one else will break the Dovakiin's rest. If you want so badly to know him, we will not stop you, it is your choice. The only help we can provide is a name, an old Jarl, our Jarl, Balgurhf. Find him, he knows the Dragonborn better than most. He could help you."

Farkas and Vilkas both turned and disappeared into their bunks. The whelp, Arrowgreth, walked alone out of the doors of Jourvaskr, and into the cool night into Whiterun, ready to become a true Nord, not a whelp.


End file.
